


No Ordinary Cats

by nekojita



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AU, M/M, Prompt Fic, Shapeshifting, neil as a cat, sorry no Foxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9630596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekojita/pseuds/nekojita
Summary: Andrew gets a little more than he bargained for when he rescues a tattered cat from some drunken idiots at work one night.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aheshke (pharmacistfangirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Aheshke+%28pharmacistfangirl%29).



> All right, so this is based on the prompt from Aheshke (pharmacistfangirl) for 'you've written about shapeshifter!Andrew, but what if Neil were the shapeshifter and could turn into a cat? (Especially to hide while on the run...)'. Obviously you're going to get Cat!Neil!
> 
> I hope this is sort of what you had in mind!
> 
> Enjoy!  
> *******

*******

“Ha! Do it again, Freddy!”

The sound of raucous laughter caught Andrew’s attention as he left Dystopia, the club where he worked; it wasn’t often there were people hanging around by the time the place closed, but there were some morons hanging out by the dumpsters, it seemed. He was about to head off to his car but he supposed that Harry would give him shit for walking away if they were causing trouble – that and he heard a soft crying sound, almost like a child. It took him a moment to work through the rage and realize that it was an animal in distress.

The ignorant fuckers were messing with a cat or dog, from the sounds of it.

Eyes narrowing as he lit a cigarette, he went over to the dumpster and found a couple of drunks cornering what looked to be a scrawny, ragged cat as one of them lit scraps of paper on fire and threw it at the poor thing; for some reason the cat had enough sense to dodge the fiery missiles but was unwilling to come near the men, probably because of the way they kept trying to grab at it. Andrew was impressed that it wasn’t panicking and just dashing off in some direction, but its pale blue eyes seemed unusually intelligent – that and its back left leg appeared to be bleeding.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Eh?” One of the morons jerked at the sound of Andrew’s almost flat voice and nearly fell over. “Whatchu want?” he slurred.

“You to get the hell out of here,” Andrew told him as he itched to go for a knife, but he was tired and Harry hated having to wash blood off of the concrete so he’d try talking for a minute. _One_ minute exactly. “Leave the thing alone, too.”

“But it stole my burger,” the man slurred as he motioned to the fast food joint across the street; Andrew was left to surmise that the morons had probably walked over to grab something in hopes of sobering up and maybe dropped their snack along the way, and the cat had taken advantage of their drunkenness. Either way, he wanted them gone before they burned the place down.

“I don’t care, go away. Now.” He took a step forward to back it up.

“Uhm, Freddy, think he’s one of, uhm, the bouncing guys. Bouncers,” the other moron said as he attempted to stand up and had to reach out to the dumpster for support. “The short one.”

‘Freddy’ sneered at Andrew. “Fuck you, we don’-“

Andrew really was tired and just wanted to go home, so he hurried things along by punching the asshole twice, one in the stomach and then in the face as he doubled over. “Go away,” he told the groaning dipshit while the other guy gaped at him. “Get him the fuck out of here before I get nasty.” Before he went for his knives – five seconds left.

“Uh-okay.” Asshole number two stumbled forward to drag his moaning friend away, which left Andrew with an aching right hand and a skittish cat. For a moment he was about to leave, but the thing was trembling and its leg was bleeding, so he sighed and shrugged off his coat.

“Fucking bite me and I’m throwing you in the trash, got it?” he warned the thing as he held out his coat to try to corner it against the wall. It tensed up and let out a hiss, but it couldn’t run with that leg and Andrew was fast, and soon enough it was bundled up and let out one plaintive meow at being caught. “You’re lucky that it’s an old coat,” he told the furball. “And you better not have any fleas.”

For some odd reason, the thing appeared offended and hissed again, but it stopped struggling. Just to be sure, Andrew wrapped the coat around the thing, which felt as if it was nothing but skin and bones, extra secure as he went over to his car. When he got there, he found Harry and Nora, who worked closing bar, waiting by their own.

“Everything okay?” Harry asked, while Nora let out a gasp and stepped a little closer to look at the cat, mindful not to get too much into Andrew’s personal space.

“Some assholes who were messing with this furball and the dumpster,” Andrew explained.

“Yeah, we saw them leave.” Harry gave him a slight nod. “If I’d known they were doing more than just fucking with the trash, I would have kicked their asses into their car to help them along.” Harry might look like an old biker with the leathery skin, the ratty mustache and grey hair pulled back in a long ponytail, the impressive muscles despite his age and the faded, cheap tattoos, but he was a decent enough guy who didn’t like people who started shit or were disrespectful to others. Somehow, Andrew wasn’t surprised that he didn’t care for assholes who were cruel to animals, either.

“Is the poor thing all right? Do you need to take it to a vet?” Nora asked. “I’ve got a friend who works at an emergency clinic.” Somehow Andrew wasn’t surprised by that, either, since Nora had a lot of friends, considering her outgoing personality.

“Long as it doesn’t cost too much,” Andrew said; working as a bouncer at Dystopia and helping behind the bar a couple nights a week paid for his cheap-ass apartment and covered the rest of his bills, but that was about it.

“No, I’ll text Adam and it’ll be fine,” she insisted as she pushed back the corkscrew dark brown curls falling onto her face, and then texted him the address of the clinic. By that point the damn cat was squirming again and it was late as hell, so Andrew got into his old Nissan and, after dumping out the clothes in his gym bag, shoved the cat into it so the thing didn’t escape while he drove.

It took over twenty minutes to get to the clinic, while the cat yowled the entire time. At least there wasn’t any wait once he got there, and Adam turned out to be a gawky young man working on his Veterinarian’s degree covered with freckles and a bad haircut who probably had a crush on Nora (like most of Nora’s friends), who was gentle as he unwrapped the cat.

“Hmm, looks like an Abyssinian,” the guy remarked while the scrawny thing cowered on the metal table. “Nora said you don’t have much money?”

“No,” Andrew said as he stood close enough to keep the thing from running away but not close enough for Adam to touch. “Just look at its leg, all right?” He figured once that was fixed, it could take care of itself again.

“Uhm, all right.” Adam checked the cat’s eyes and mouth, and seemed more confident when the thing didn’t bite him. “Poor thing’s been in a few fights, from the feel of scar tissue, but he seems young and over-all healthy. Teeth are in good condition so I’m wondering if he was someone’s pet who got… well, people are bastards and don’t think twice about abandoning their pets,” he said with a bit of heat while he began to clean the cut. “I’m not seeing any fleas or ear mites, so that’s good.”

Great, so other than the blood, Andrew’s coat wasn’t ruined. He was a bit surprised at how well the cat put up with having its leg treated, and soon enough Adam was finished.

“He’s malnourished, obviously, and it’ll take a couple weeks for the leg to heal.” He paused for a moment before placing a cardboard carrier case on the table. “Are you going to keep him?”

Andrew frowned at that. “He’s a stray.”

“He’s a really good cat, he didn’t bite or scratch at me during anything so he’s not feral. We’ll help out with the visit, we’ve a good Samaritan fund but think about it, okay? A nice guy like him shouldn’t be back out on the streets or… well, maybe someone would give him a chance in the shelters. Maybe.” Adam sounded doubtful, though.

Andrew hated it when people tried to guilt-trip him into shit; it wasn’t like he believed in the emotion so it rarely worked, but the guy probably had a point about the furball not doing well in a shelter when he was so scrawny and missing a patch of fur here and there due to whatever had torn him up. Andrew stared at the cat which was huddled on the table and eyeing the door as if trying to figure out its chances of making a run for it, of all things, and sighed. “I’ll at least keep it long enough for it to get better and figure something out from there.” Maybe he could foist it off on someone at the club, on one of Nora’s friends.

“Great!” Adam picked up the scrawny thing and put it in the carrier. “I’ll round up some things for you, stuff like a cone in case he tries to lick at the wound, some food and extra supplies, and if you do keep him he’ll need to get some shots and really should be neutered.” The cat let out a loud yowl from the box as Adam handed him over. “But you can worry about that in the future and there’s special clinics to help with the costs and all.”

Soon enough Andrew left the clinic with a rumbling cat in a box and a bag of stuff, and thirty bucks poorer. He ended up spending another forty picking up more stuff at Walmart on the way home, but not all of it was for the damn cat, and it took two trips to get everything inside. Annoyed and just wanting to go to sleep at that point, he set up the litter box, a bowl of water and another filled with the special dry that Adam had given him, then let the cat out of the cardboard box.

The furball really didn’t weigh that much and skittered over beneath the small kitchen table once its paws hit the linoleum floor, its movements a bit odd because of the injured back leg, where it first stared at Andrew with those icy blue eyes as if making sure that Andrew wasn’t going to come after it then it peered around the apartment. Andrew hadn’t been around many cats before, other than a couple of strays out on the street, but he found the furball almost unnerving with its intelligence.

Or maybe he’d just been up too damn long and needed some sleep. “Use the damn litter box or you’re back out on the street. Same goes if you claw up any of my shit or hack up a furball on it,” he warned, as if the furball could understand him. The cat stared back at him without blinking for several seconds then curled up beneath the table, its long tail wrapped up around its front paws.

Right, it was time to go to bed. Andrew left it in the kitchen and went into the bathroom to wash up, then into the bedroom where he closed the door behind him then locked it. After changing into something to sleep in, he collapsed into bed and hoped to spend the next several hours passed out.

The sound of something moving out in his apartment woke him up when it seemed as if he’d just gone to sleep, jerking him upright as he blinked for a couple of seconds. It took him a moment to remember everything, about the cat and getting home late, even as he grabbed the knife he kept beneath the pillow and jumped out of the bed then unlocked the bedroom door. He flicked on the overhead light for the living area, and was surprised to see a red shape hop beneath the table.

At first he figured that the damn cat had been into things, had maybe tried to jump up onto the counter or something, but then he noticed that things were wrong, that they weren’t left where he’d left them. He knew that the loaf of bread had been closer to the toaster, and that he hadn’t left a butter knife out.

“What the hell?” He glared as he went over to the counter and picked up the bread, and swore that a couple of slices were missing. Also, there were traces of peanut butter on the knife, so he checked the cupboard and found the jar to be in the wrong place.

Whirling around, he immediately checked the front door, but the security chain was still on and the two locks still bolted. Next were the windows, but they were closed and locked as well, with no signs of tampering. But the one blind was off-kilter, and a pillow was knocked over on the couch. “What the _hell_ is going on here?” he demanded to know as he stalked back into the kitchen, where the cat was still hiding beneath the table. “How are you fucking with this stuff?” He squatted down to glare at the furball and found it staring back at him with those too intelligent eyes, which tracked his every movement. “I bring you home and weird shit happens, so how the – fuck me.” He was talking to a cat. _A cat_.

“You’re going to the shelter, see if this weird shit happens there,” he muttered as he turned around so he could grab his cigarettes, planning on staying up the rest of the night to watch out for whoever the hell was fucking with him so he could stab them. Last goddamn time he took pity on something, that was-

“Uhm, wait.”

The words were soft and uncertain, but they still made Andrew spin around, knife held out to slash or stab, to find a naked kid crouched beneath the table where the damn cat had been. A naked kid covered in scars and bruises with raggedly cut tousled curls the same shade of red as the cat’s fur, with the same startling blue eyes, and what looked to be a nasty gash on his left leg just barely held together by something.

“What. The. _Fuck_.” Maybe this was all some crazy dream, or Andrew had finally snapped like some of the therapists had warned him he would. Hello psychotic break, nice to meet you.

“Yeah,” the kid sighed. “Exactly.” He rubbed at his head while he eyed the knife in Andrew’s right hand. “Could you, uhm, put that down?” For some reason the weapon made him nervous.

“You’re in my apartment,” Andrew snapped. “Naked. Why should I?”

“Because I’m not exactly armed and you brought me here,” the kid snapped back. “All I wanted was something to eat before I left.” He hunched over a little more, long legs drawn up against his chest and arms wrapped around them, and Andrew noticed how thin the limbs were, remembered how scrawny the cat had been.

“So you… you really are the damn furball?” Andrew asked as he lowered the knife but kept a tight grip on its hilt. What the fuck? When the kid nodded, he gazed at him for a couple of seconds. “Prove it.” He wanted to make sure this wasn’t some stupid trick being played on him.

The kid heaved a deep sigh and appeared to concentrate for a couple of seconds, before the air seemed to shimmer around him. Just as Andrew blinked in surprise, the kid was gone, to be replaced by the scrawny cat again. “ _Fuck_.” The psychotic break theory was looking a lot more probable, all of a sudden.

The cat gave him a heavy look as if to say ‘what did you expect?’, and then the air shimmered again. A moment later the kid reappeared, gasping as if starved for air and trembling. “I… oh, that’s it,” he moaned. “Not again, not tonight.” He slumped against one of the legs of the table.

Andrew considered him for a couple of seconds before he left the kitchen to return to his bedroom, where he left the knife on his nightstand and grabbed another pack of cigarettes instead, along with an old pair of sweats and an even older hoodie. When he returned to the kitchen, he found the kid still slumped on the floor and threw the clothes at him. “I want an explanation and a name,” he said before he went over to the counter to make some sandwiches while he smoked.

By the time he’d made a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the both of them, the kid had managed to dress himself and crawl onto one of the two chairs around the table, and perked up when Andrew set the plateful of sandwiches down near him. “I’m waiting.”

The kid stared at the sandwich in his hand while reddish curls fell onto his face. “Ah, call me Neil.” He looked up at Andrew and gave a slight smile lacking any humor in it. “Best to stick with that for now.”

“And why is that?” Andrew picked up a sandwich of his own and tore off a piece, but didn’t eat it just then.

“Because of the whole cat thing.” ‘Neil’ paused to have a bite and closed his eyes in what looked to be pleasure while he chewed and swallowed; Andrew watched on and noticed that the kid wasn’t bad looking, for someone who turned into an annoying furball. “Ah, it’s pretty rare,” he said once the sandwich was half finished.

“Really?” Andrew scoffed. “You mean everyone can’t turn into a cat and freak out people in the middle of the night like this?”

Neil huffed as he sat back in the chair, wincing a little either because of his leg or those bruises. “Right. It’s a family trait, the shapeshifting.” The faint smile on his lips vanished. “From my mum’s side. Someone found out about it and we started running.” He made to set the sandwich down, then shivered and seemed to force himself to take another bite. “She died a while back, fighting them so I could get away. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

Andrew had a few bites while he considered that. “So they want you because you can shift into a cat? Why? Hacking up furballs is in that much demand?”

“Amusing,” Neil drawled; he’d finished the one sandwich and started on another, despite the depressing topic affecting his appetite, he really did need to eat, from what Andrew could see. He stared at Andrew while biting into his bottom lip as if debating something. “We’re faster than normal people, some of us are stronger, too. Heal pretty fast and are tough, for the most part. Plus, there’s the whole ‘shapeshifting’ thing. Comes in handy for a lot of stuff.”

Hmm, Andrew could imagine a few uses for a kid who could shift into a cat, he supposed. Look at how Neil had managed to get into his apartment and might have been able to sneak out if it wasn’t for his bum leg and Andrew being a light sleeper.

“Comes in handy for who?” Andrew asked, but all Neil did was give him that humorless smile and eat another sandwich. Andrew returned it with a flat expression, and got up to fetch a bottle of water and a beer from his fridge.

Neil accepted the water with a grateful nod of and finished his meal in silence, while Andrew drank the beer. Once the sandwiches were gone, Neil toyed with the edges of the hoodie’s sleeves as if he was thinking of what to say next; from what Andrew could tell, the kid was a little taller than him, but it was all leg so the hoodie swallowed him since he was of a leaner build than Andrew, while the sweatpants showed off bony ankles. The kid was also at least a year younger, maybe more, it was difficult to tell with those big eyes and sharp cheekbones. “So, uhm, thanks. For everything,” Neil said as he ran a hand along the front of the faded black hoodie. “I should get go-“

“Keep your ass in the chair,” Andrew told him. “I said I’d keep you around long enough for you to heal up and I will.” He didn’t go back on his word, and it had been a long time since he’d come across someone whose life was more fucked up than his own.

“But….” Neil stared at him in evident surprise. “Look, I only told you that little bit because I was leaving. You shouldn’t be involved in this.” He wrapped his arms around his middle and hunched over. “It’s… it’s not safe for you.”

It wasn’t safe for the furball either, judging from the scars all over his body; Andrew wondered if those assholes back at the club had been responsible for the wound on his leg or if someone else had done it to him. “I think I can handle myself around a scrawny catboy. Now no more fucking noise during the night while I’m sleeping, you clean up after yourself, especially if you’re using the litter box,” that wrung a disgusted look from the kid’s face, “and you’re crashing on the couch.”

“But-“

“And don’t even think to sneak out,” Andrew warned. “Because if I wake up to you trying to leave, which means that you were going out the window or door without it being locked behind you? I’m going to see how well I can skin a damn cat.”

It was interesting to watch how well Neil could bristle at the threat in his human form. “You’re an asshole.”

“An asshole who’s letting you crash on his couch, so shut up.” Andrew gave him a cool look until Neil mumbled beneath his breath then got up from the small table. He limped a few feet toward the couch, then changed his direction toward the bathroom; while he was in there, Andrew went to fetch a spare blanket for him and dropped it on the old but comfortable couch while he waited.

Neil came out a couple of minutes later and all but collapsed on the piece of furniture, wincing once more in pain.  Yet he let out a pleased sigh as he curled up on it, which made Andrew think that the furball wouldn’t have much trouble sleeping there for what remained of the night, so he returned to his bedroom with the intention of getting some sleep at last.

He thought that Neil had fled during the night after all when he finally woke up and left his bedroom around noon the next day, but a careful glance at the couch revealed a bundle of fur tangled up in the blanket and the clothes pushed off to the other end of the couch. Andrew left him there and went to start the coffee, and had just poured himself a cup when there was a faint moan behind him to warn him of Neil’s approach.

Bastard was quiet on his feet, he would give him that; Andrew fought the urge to go for one of his knives and gave him a glare instead, which Neil seemed to ignore. “Coffee?”

Andrew blocked the pot for a moment. “Do you do that often? Shift back and forth?” He nodded toward the couch.

Neil blinked at him and then sighed. “Sometimes. It’s better to sleep in an unfamiliar area as a cat, my senses are sharper and depending on where I’m at, people overlook a cat better than a human.”

Andrew considered that, how as a cat it must be a lot easier to hide and crawl into safe spots, and moved away from the coffee pot as he pushed aside bad memories and dark thoughts from his past. Neil continued to eye him for a moment, then stepped forward.

The furball must have gone through the cupboards during the night since he knew where to find a mug, into which he poured some coffee and then drank it black. Andrew had his suspicions that the furball was a bit off, and that there was proof. “So what’s with the knives?” Neil asked as he leaned against the counter while staring at Andrew’s left armband, which was left exposed since he was wearing an old black t-shirt.

“Not all of us can shift a pair of claws,” Andrew said. “I like to be prepared.”

“Ah.” Neil seemed to accept that and drank more coffee, which said as much about his life as the scars and skittish behavior.

“What’s with you running around naked?”

The question made Neil choke a little, but he didn’t spray coffee everywhere. After he coughed a couple of times, he shook his head. “I stash the clothes before I shift, it’s just that this time, I couldn’t get back to them before I ran into those bastards at the club.” He frowned at something while he tugged at the front of the hoodie. “It’s always good to have a stash or two around.”

Andrew stood there and gazed at him for that remark, but the furball didn’t elaborate so it was left at that. In fact, Neil wasn’t that much more forthcoming on much of anything, as if he’d decided that he needed to be more careful about what he revealed.

Considering that he wasn’t prying into Andrew’s business, Andrew let things lie and lounged around before he had to go into work; he fixed some pasta for himself and opened a can of tuna for Neil, which earned him a displeased look before Neil made it into tuna salad and had a couple of sandwiches.

Nora asked Andrew about the ‘cat’ as soon as he showed up at work, and mindful of all those scars and Neil’s reticence about telling Andrew too much about himself, he fed her a story about how the damn thing slipped out of an open window during the night. She seemed upset and then shrugged. “I guess some of them become too afraid of humans thanks to the assholes who mistreat them. Maybe we’ll see him around here and can catch him, then take him to a foster home or something.”

Andrew shrugged to show that he didn’t care. “I’ll bring in all the stuff I bought tomorrow, give it to your friend for the clinic or something.” Since Neil wasn’t going to use the shit anyway, no sense in it going to waste.

“Aw, that’s so nice of you. I’m sure they can use it.” Nora smiled at him and slipped him a couple of free shots that night, so it worked out in the end.

What also worked out was Neil staying in Andrew’s apartment, which surprised him; he was always so mindful of his space, unwilling to let people in too close and here he was sharing a small one bedroom apartment with another guy – a stranger at that. A _shapeshifter_ at that.  Yet Neil would change into his cat form often whenever Andrew wasn’t in a mood to talk to spare him from having to say anything while curling up close enough to allow the occasional pet (odd, how Andrew found the feel of soft fur comforting, when any other touch would drive him to pull out a knife), and Neil kept himself busy while Andrew was at work. While the place hadn’t been much of a mess before – Andrew refused to live in a pigsty – Neil burned off some energy from scrubbing it from top to bottom, save Andrew’s bedroom which he didn’t enter, and even did the laundry during the night. It was nice after a long shift of putting up with a bunch of assholes to come home and not have to worry about stuff like that, though he told himself that it wouldn’t last forever, that Neil’s leg was healing and the furball was losing the starved look, that soon enough he’d take off and Andrew wouldn’t have to worry about fur on his couch anymore.

As expected, Neil brought up the subject at ‘breakfast’ a couple of days after Andrew had thought that, while he buttered his toast and Andrew had his second bowl of sugary cereal. “So, my leg’s all better now,” he said while nodded in the direction of his left side. “And I, uhm, well, you probably want your couch back.”

It wasn’t like the kid took up much space, especially when he was in his cat shape. Even human Neil was on the small side, and the two of them fit on the thing with plenty of room to spare when they bothered to watch anything together, usually with Andrew talking the furball through the plot since Neil hadn’t much time to devote to modern culture with the whole ‘I’m being hunted because I can change into a cat’ thing.

For some reason, Andrew didn’t mind it when they spent afternoons doing that, or when Neil would borrow a book and they’d read together. Or Neil would take a nap, seeming to enjoy them no matter what shape he was in.

Andrew shrugged while he had another spoonful of cereal. “Like the maid service better.”

“Of course you do.” Neil looked down his nose at Andrew while he ate his toast, at the moment possessing a familiar air of ultimate superiority – at least until an auburn curl fell onto his left eye. Then he quickly swallowed and huffed to blow it away, and was just some gorgeous idiot in need of a haircut.

Andrew had discovered a few things in the last couple of weeks – that he was, surprisingly, a cat person, and that he had a thing for gorgeous idiots. Also, that he was apparently paying for some truly atrocious karma in a past life to be stuck with Neil in this one, let alone everything else that had happened to him up until now. It seemed that Neil didn’t need to be neutered because he didn’t pick up on any of the _slight_ comments Andrew made in regards to him liking girls or guys or anything. Nothing. The furball came across as asexual while Andrew struggled with a rare sense of attraction.

“As I was saying, maybe I should-“

“Why?” Andrew asked as he went to dump his empty bowl in the sink, and had the pleasure of seeing Neil appear confused by the question.

“Ah, _why_ what?”

“Why leave?” Andrew gestured to Neil dressed in his old clothes. “You don’t look like death warmed over anymore, and maybe next time you will end up _neutered_ – or worse, put down.”

“Very funny, I feel the sudden urge to shred the couch now,” Neil said as he folded his arms over his chest. “I told you that people are looking for me. What makes you think it’s a good idea for me to stay here?”

“Because running hasn’t done you any good,” Andrew argued. “Try something different for once.”

Neil opened his mouth as if to say something, then shook his head. “I don’t know, there’s a big risk involved if you’re wrong.” He frowned at Andrew and shook his head again when Andrew tried to interrupt. “And it’s not just me who’s at risk this time.” Then he got up from the chair while pulling the sweatshirt over his head, which meant that he was unwilling to argue any longer.

Andrew hated himself for how he didn’t ‘quite’ look away in time while Neil slipped off the sweatpants.

He wanted to say that it was stupid, Neil being worried about him, wanting to protect him, when no one else had bothered to care for Andrew so far in his life. Cass had pretended to care, but not enough for it to really matter in the end, so why should Neil? Why should some improbable, illogical furball with incredible eyes and too many scars and impossible magic?

Andrew told himself he didn’t care when Neil left the next day, stammering out a ‘thank you’ before he once more shed Andrew’s borrowed clothes and then shifted into his cat form. He stared at Andrew for a moment, his sharply angled feline face unreadable, before he jumped out the open window and used the fire escape to reach the ground.

Just another person who ran out on Andrew, in the end. Nothing new there, even if he did it in cat form.

Caught up in one of his bad days without a red furball at his side to pet, Andrew did some ‘therapeutic’ cleaning himself, ridding the apartment of any sign of Neil’s presence; throwing out the blanket that the idiot had used, the one pet dish that Andrew had kept as a joke, vacuuming up every last trace of hair. He didn’t feel anything but tired when it was all done. Tired and angry and frustrated.

Perhaps karma was on his side for once, because a couple of days later there was a knock on his door; he opened it expecting it to be some stupid new neighbor attempting to introduce themselves (they learned quick to leave him the fuck alone), but realized the woman was dressed a little _too_ nice upon closer inspection. That her smile was a little _too_ sharp.

“What?” he asked while flicking ash at her expensive as hell shoes.

“Mr. Doe?” When he nodded, the woman held up a flier with a picture of Neil in his cat form on it – the photo must have been taken a while ago, since Neil appeared better fed in it, better fed and less ragged. “I hear that you might have found my cat, Nathaniel?” She watched him closely as if hoping to catch a reaction.

Too bad he’d learned years ago to give nothing away. “Fancy name for a scrawny fleabag,” he said as he glanced again at the photo then dismissed it. “Looks a lot better than the furball I rescued the one night about a month ago.”

The woman’s smile sharpened for a moment, and then she pulled on a fake expression of concern. “Well, the poor dear managed to get out one day while we had someone over to work on the house, and I’m afraid he’s having a rough time out there from the sounds of it. Do you still have him?”

Andrew made a show of opening his apartment door wider but didn’t let the woman do more than look inside. “Nope, he slipped out the window the first night, seems he’s good at sneaking away.” He made sure she could look around for a few more seconds then blocked the doorway. “But I’m out the bill for the clinic and some other shit.”

The woman was quick to check out the apartment, and Andrew noticed how she examined him, too – probably checking for any signs of cat hair on his black clothes. “Damn, and here I thought I finally found the little dear.” She gave him what she probably was a sweet smile as she dug in her purse for her wallet, careful not to open it too much and give him a glimpse of its contents, and then handed him two fifties and the flyer. “Be sure to call that number if you see him around. There’s a reward for his safe return.” She continued to smile, but the expression never reached her eyes.

Pretending to be impressed over the money, Andrew smiled as well and gave her a two-fingered salute. “Right away. Just hope I can hold on to him long enough that time.”

“Oh, don’t worry about grabbing him, just call the number,” the woman told him as she turned away. “Like you said, he’s good at getting away.”

Andrew hoped that was the case as he locked his door behind him, and threw the flyer into the trash.

He honestly never expected to see Neil again, so it was just a _little_ bit of a surprise to get to his car one night at the end of a shift, less than a week after the strange woman had paid him a visit, and paused when he went to unlock it because there was something ‘off’ about it. Because he could see a duffel bag that hadn’t been there when he’d gone to work sitting on the small back seat of the Nissan coupe, a black duffel bag that he didn’t own.

And then a familiar cat popped its head up to look at him through the driver’s side window, startling the hell out of him. “Fuck!” He nearly punched the window, which didn’t do his temper any favors, and he swore that Neil was smirking at him.

He gave Neil the finger then waved at him to move, which Neil did, hopping into the back seat. Andrew spared a quick glance around to make sure that no one was around, but by that point Harry and Nora had already gotten into their own cars and were driving away. After unlocking the door, he slipped into the car and started the engine. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The seat was jostled and then Neil groaned, probably from the lack of space in the back. “Ah, it was easier to break into your car than your apartment? Plus, less attention this way.”

‘Easier’, not ‘impossible’. Andrew gritted his teeth together as he pulled out onto the road. “I would have stabbed you if you broke into the apartment.”

“Yeah, that’s why I broke into your car,” Neil said, his tone clearly conveying ‘d’uh’.

Andrew wished that he’d had some shots before leaving the club, but at least there was alcohol at home to help him put up with this shit. “Why are you in my car? I thought you were leaving? Do you know someone came looking for you?”

Neil was quiet for a mile or two. “I thought about it… and then I reconsidered what you said. So I figured I’d just lay low for a little while and wait and see if any of my- if they caught up to me and if I could wait them out this time. Then Lola came and for once it worked.” He let out a shaky breath. “She looked around, but since I’d found a good place to hide and wasn’t running, she seems to have moved on.”

Things were quiet after that for another minute. “You sure about that?” Not that Andrew was complaining, really.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Neil said in a quiet voice.

Andrew thought about the scars he’d seen and decided to take the furball at his word. “All right then, shift back because if I’m getting pulled over, I’m not explaining your naked ass.”

Neil snorted at that, but a few seconds later, he leapt into the passenger seat as a cat once more, and gave a pointed lick to his tail before he curled it around his paws. Andrew almost told him to put on the damn seatbelt but kept quiet.

He derived some enjoyment out of shoving Neil into the duffel bag and zipping it closed so he could ‘smuggle’ the furball into his apartment, and was given a feline glare of disapproval once the idiot was free. Noting that there were clothes in the bag along with a few other items, he went into his room to change out of his ‘work’ clothes, and when he came back into the living room dressed in cotton pants and a t-shirt, found Neil in loose sweatpants and an overlarge sweatshirt, both something he could shed easily in case he needed to shift, and holding a binder in his hands.

“So,” Neil said as he sat down on the couch with a nervous smile on his face. “I can’t carry much on me, I have to travel light which means stuff I can easily stash and retrieve. Just the basics.” He nodded to the bag. “But this is important,” he said as he held up the binder in both hands. “Before my mom and I ran away, she grabbed some money so we would have enough while on the run.”

All right, it looked as if Andrew was getting a bedtime story, what fun. Maybe he’d skip the alcohol for now. “How much, and from who?”

Neil bit his bottom lip as if debating how much he should tell Andrew, which made Andrew frown and cross his arms over his chest. “If you want to stay, you have to tell me something. That woman came here to pay me a visit, remember?”

“I… I still think it’s best if you don’t know everything, but okay,” Neil sighed. “We’re running from my father, and that’s enough for you to know for now, okay? He found out about my mother, that people from her bloodline have this talent, and he had plans for me. Plans my mother disagreed with so she stole money from him and we’ve been running ever since.” Neil’s expression twisted with pain for a moment. “Well, now it’s just me.”

Andrew didn’t let him dwell on the loss. “How much money, and how powerful is your father?”

“Hmm?” Neil took a deep breath as if to center himself. “Five million, though we’ve used a lot of it in trying to keep ahead of him. He’s… powerful, which is why I think it’s best you don’t know too much about him." While Andrew tried to digest stealing five million from someone, Neil held up the binder. “There’s still over a million left, which I can access through information here.” He summoned up a smile for Andrew. “Figured it was about time I start pitching in to pay the rent, no?”

There was only one question in Andrew’s head just then. “Why?” Why tell him all of this? Why come back to him? Why trust him?

Neil shrugged in a nonchalant manner, yet he didn’t look away from Andrew. “Because no one ever helped me out like you did before, ever took me in and offered me a place to stay. Because I think you’re right in saying that I need to do something new.” His confidence wavered and he bit his bottom lip while he lowered the binder to his lap. “It’s… she’d tell me I’m being stupid, to keep running.” Neil rubbed at his abdomen, at the scars that Andrew had briefly seen there. “But so far it’s gotten me nothing.”

“No, it hasn’t,” Andrew agreed, more than a little angry at a mother who hadn’t protected her son better – he might not know everything, but he would expect that Neil’s mother could have done better with all that money to keep him safe. “You can’t keep reacting, not when there’s determined people with resources out there looking for you. Here’s where you sit your ass down and let someone with a brain take over.”

“You… I really am going to shred the damn couch,” Neil grumbled as he dropped the binder onto the duffel bag.

“Go ahead and do it, I’ll make you buy a new one now that I know you have money.”

“Bastard,” Neil shot back, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“A bastard who can take you in to get declawed, so behave.” Andrew just gave the furball a blank look when Neil made a rude gesture in his direction. “Now it’s late, so unless you’re got any other major revelations, then I say we go to bed and figure out some more stuff tomorrow.” Such as how to move forward with Neil living there long term.

“Fine.” Neil looked around for his blanket and seemed upset that it was gone. Andrew left him there to go fetch another one, unwilling to confess that he’d thrown it away.

So the furball was back. He told himself the odd feeling in his chest was over the uncertainty of having a wanted… person living with him, and the prospect of all that money in his living room. Not that a gorgeous idiot had come back to live with him. Nope, not at all.

Besides, it meant sharing a bathroom again and cat hair everywhere and Neil hogging half the couch when he wasn’t even ten pounds, something Andrew couldn’t figure out for the life of him. Just like he couldn’t figure out why Neil smiled at him like that and was so eager to go stand behind the couch and shed his clothes, then jump on to curl up on Andrew’s lap when he decided to sit down for a few minutes as if it was Neil’s most favorite spot in the world.

“Since when is my lap your bed, you stupid furball?” Andrew asked, and got a baleful glance for a moment before Neil closed his eyes and tucked his tail over his nose.

Andrew figured that the furball could make it up to him by buying one of those fancy espresso machines and closed his eyes as well as he buried his fingers in Neil’s soft fur.

*******

**Author's Note:**

> *******  
> And there you go. Now, what's up in the fic queue? I need to go back and fix a couple editing mistakes in Armies, so don't freak if you see it reposted sometime soon.
> 
> Dragon!Andrew! There was a LOT of demands for this. Wow. Should be something for this soon.
> 
> I'm working on the next part of The First Breath and REALLY hope to have it out on Sunday, but the weekend is looking CRAZY busy so *fingers crossed*. Hopefully it won't be too late if it's not.
> 
> Who knows, maybe there will be more of Cat!Neil if this is popular enough. This felt a little rushed to me because I tried to keep it to a 'prompt' length and not turn it into a massive plot, but it's open-ended (and pining!Andrew).


End file.
